To: @romanope
From: keekry
First, let me just say I’m super sorry for this late gift. I haven’t been able to access a good wifi connection for a whole week and I just got back. I hope you enjoy your gift!
So I went with the Aladdin AU but I mixed things up a bit?
In this world the Sultan has no son and no daughter. He’s old, and he needs an heir. Given the eccentric personality he contains (and a streak of rebelliousness that never really faded) he ignores the advice of his head advisor and decides to send word to foreign kingdoms – send your princes, the messengers declare, and if they are to my liking, I will make them the next Sultan.
They come in droves. Princes from far and wide, from kingdoms as great as Agrabah but also from kingdoms who barely qualify as kingdoms. All looking for the power becoming Sultan of Agrabah would grant them. They come, but they don’t return.
The assassin goes by the codename Jasmine, pure snark and skill with a knife wrapped in a seductive package, fooling the princes until the knife is between their ribs and they realize Romano is more than just a pretty face. Jafar is very pleased with his choice. The Sultan is confused, and grows more susceptible day by day to Jafar’s sultry advice to end the decree. It’s not like any of the princes so far have been suitable anyway.
One more, the Sultan says. I’ll give one more chance.
Spain in this world still meets the genie, still makes a wish that makes him a prince, but this time it’s a wish entirely unmotivated by meeting the princess. This time it’s for the sole purpose of becoming a prince and leaving the streets once and for all. This time it’s not so selfish - as a prince he’ll be able to do much more to help the ‘streetrats’ of Agrabah.
He’s welcomed into the palace by the Sultan, who’s placing all his bets on this slightly awkward prince to be the Sultan he hopes he can become. Jafar greets him next with a smile on his face, secure in the fact that this is the final lamb he must sacrifice before he can take the throne.
At the stroke of midnight, Romano enters the chambers of the prince as scheduled, dressed as a courtesan with a knife hidden in the folds of his outfit. The smirk on his face is painted on – on the inside he’s just waiting for this to be over, because it’s the same deal every time. They put their grubby paws on his body, and when they get close enough he gets a brief flicker of satisfaction in the dawning horror on their face as they realize that a) he isn’t a woman, and b) the knife in their chest is very, very real.
Except when he saunters in the prince looks up, blushes, and turns away. He fiddles with the lamp in his hands, and awkwardly asks him to leave, because his services won’t be necessary. Romano is at once infuriated and intrigued. Infuriated because fuck you he makes a gorgeous courtesan, and intrigued because this is the first time he’s been refused.
He sways closer, determined to carry out his goddamn job anyway, and watches the prince’s eyes widen. They flick downwards quickly, and the tip of a red tongue darts out to wet his lips. A curl of satisfaction stirs in Romano’s chest, and his next step is more confident.
A hand thrusts out, and Romano is pushed back a little, steps faltering and eyes widening in surprise. The prince holds out a shiny, red tomato (and where did he pull that from?) and there’s a hesitant smile on his face.
To say that Romano is a bit flabbergasted would be an understatement, but he takes it in stride and leans forward to take a bite. So he’s into foodplay, that’s ok. Romano’s taken on kinkier targets.
The prince’s face morphs to take on the same shade as the tomato, and he all but hurls the fruit at Romano’s face. His reflexes save him, and he catches the damn thing, but not before a swear word or two leaves his mouth.
“ohmygod I’m so sorry” the prince babbles. “You’re gorgeous but I’m gay and this really isn’t what I’m here for.”
When his grandkids ask him about this in the future, Romano will say he was suave and collected, charming Spain into a dazed stupor and exiting the room gracefully.
What really goes down is a little more like this:
Romano pauses with his mouth full of tomato, a thin line of red juice running down the side of his chin. He takes a second to chew, and then swallow, and then speak the word that will condemn him forever to death by embarrassment.
“Same.”
It’s the truth – Spain is a gorgeous, shirtless man and Romano is very, very gay. He’s also not really here to seduce him, as wonderful as the prospect sounds. (Unless your version of seduction includes stabbing strangers – in which case I worry for you.)
But the truth isn’t really what he’s supposed to be saying here, and he realizes this fact perhaps a second too late. By then, the damage has already been done, and they’re both left standing there, staring at each other like a pair of dolts.
(Which they are)
They do this until Romano comes to his senses and decides that the best course of action right now is to fling himself out the nearest exit – which happens to be the balcony. He would have been fine, but Spain doesn’t know this and he sure as hell isn’t about to let this unknown beauty jump to his death. The carpet is summoned, Romano is saved (squawking) and there is chaos.
[I’m on a flying carpet.
Yes you are.
You own a flying carpet.
I do.
What the fuck.
Same. ]
Romano, at this point, is shook beyond his shookable boundaries. He allows himself to be helped back onto the balcony, hands holding tight onto Spain’s. They stumble together back into his room, and in an attempt to lighten the mood Spain tells Romano little anecdotes about his time on the streets. He’s careful to make it seem like he’s just a spoiled brat that got bored with palace life and decided to roam, but as he continues, he makes little slips here and there. They’re not terribly obvious, mind you, but they’re enough for Romano to get it.
The not-quite-a-prince doesn’t seem to notice Romano’s dawning understanding, and keeps rambling on about the baby turtles he’d freed from the markets, joyfully gesticulating his adventures to his silent audience.
For the first night in a long time, he leaves the chambers without blood on his hands.
He reports back to Jafar with some shite excuse, something about wanting to wait a bit longer so as to savour his final kill or whatever. The head advisor isn’t too pleased about his decision, but he’s in a good mood, and so he lets it pass.
He goes back every night, listens to Spain ramble and watches him smile. He feels his heart skip a beat when Spain’s eyes light up as he enters the room – it’s pure delight at his presence and so, so different from what he’s used to.
Is he supposed to be the one to extinguish that light? Time is running out, and Jafar is getting impatient – the Sultan grows to like Spain more and more by the day and Jafar is losing his favour. Spain needs to die.
So on the final night Romano creeps into the room, knife held close to his chest, tears trickling in silent streams down his face. He moves without a sound, raising the knife above a sleeping Spain’s chest, and –
He can’t do it.
The hand that holds the knife wavers and recedes. He lets it clatter to the ground, waking a confused and groggy Spain who turns to look at him with perplexed, innocent eyes. He spots the knife, sees Romano’s pain-filled eyes, connects the dots.
He doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms and lets Romano fall into them, sobbing and swearing up a storm. From there on everything comes out – what Romano’s done for Jafar, what he was about to do. He cries and cries until there’s nothing left to cry out, and when he’s done he looks up to see a gentle smile on Spain’s lips, forming the words, ‘It’s ok’.
It’s really not, but in his warm embrace, Romano thinks one day, it might be.
.
Jafar is dealt with by a giant, blue creature that bursts out of the lamp Romano has always seen Spain holding. He’s heard of djinn, but he’s never met one in real life. They’re not as scary as the stories make them out to be; this one has a face filled with humour and warmth, and makes Romano wonder if the old adage about dogs being like their masters applies to djinn too.
Romano confesses his crimes to the Sultan, and is surprised when the Sultan tells him to rise. The old man is… an old man, one who’s seen and made his fair share of mistakes. He tells Romano it’s not his fault (even though it is) and says if he really wants to, he can stay in the castle and repay whatever debt he feels needs to be repaid.
Spain stands meekly at the side through all of this, having already made his own confession to the Sultan about his identity. (The Sultan had only thrown his head back and laughed – he’d known all along) He perks up when the Sultan asks Romano if he’d like to stay and looks eagerly at Romano with the same light in his eyes that he’d been so fearful of extinguishing.
Fuck yeah he’s going to stay.
